Bring Me To Life
by Lugosi
Summary: Two leaders Micah & Bridgette wake up to find that they are both alive again... and, somehow, chosen to lead together... but will they succeed this time? Or will they meet the same bloody ending? Or worse will it come at the hands of one another?
1. Out of the Darkness, Into the Light

"_The hardest thing about life is living it…_"

-Sarah Michelle Gellar _in_ Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

  **B**lack.

  Everything was black… it didn't matter if she opened her eyes or not. Everything was cloaked in darkness… shadows everywhere, there was no light. She felt weightless… like she was floating… floating through the nothingness because there was nothing… only the darkness. She would feel around with her hands, try to feel something, try to find something to hold on to, try to find _something_! As long as she wasn't the only thing there… but it wasn't so.

  There was nothing… nothing but the darkness and she.

  But she was darkness, now wasn't she?

  She was just as black as this realm she was in… her heart, her hair, her clothes… but deathly pale skin… or, at least, that was the way things were last time she saw… but she couldn't see a thing… for all she knew, she could be completely white.

  Darkness… blackness… nothingness, it was everywhere… it was everything. 

  _Even me…_

  She thought the sorrowful thought… but she couldn't even feel the sorrow. She couldn't feel the fear she should feel for the emptiness. Feelings were gone, too.

  She thought for she couldn't speak… well, she didn't know if she could speak or not… probably not… but she had no desire to. No need… who was there to hear her? No one. The silence ran as deep as the blackness… they worked together in the never ending nothingness that surrounded her.

  _I know I'm not lost, I am just alone…_

  Or were they the same? What need had she to think? She was nothing… surrounded by nothingness to swallow her whole. She didn't even bother to wonder how she got here… though if she tried, she'd remember instantly… she was here and that was that. There was no escape.

  _Is this Hell?_

  She would have slapped herself for such a thought if she could have found herself in the darkness… she wasn't sure if there was a Hell in her belief… it didn't sound right. Those who are evil, she tried to kill them all… her God told her and the others too… and so they did. Why would God need them to do that if there was a Hell to punish them on its own?

  No… there wasn't a Hell.

  This was just… nothing. Nothing at all… Did that make her nothing? She believed it did… she allow everything to slip away from her and into the darkness… she lost her name, her look, her past, her life, her loved ones, her mission, her memories, everything she had ever known… she had to let it go.

  She knew that.

  So she did… _Let it go_... she whispered to herself in her thoughts… _Let it go… let it all go. _It felt like blood pouring from her veins… like every vein was open to the air, at its mercy, bleeding… bleeding, blood everywhere. Bleeding out her soul into the darkness… _Let it go…_

  And then, suddenly, and seemingly for no reason, it stopped… it all stopped… all the strange feelings, the bleeding, the letting go; the inabilities… all came to a grinding halt. She felt unnerved… something hit her so completely unnerving. But wait… wasn't that a feeling?

  The unnerving feeling grew stronger as the numbness faded… and somehow, things seemed brighter. So much brighter… her eyes burned. So much brighter! Her eyes burned so! The pain was unbearable… it was too bright!

  And then she noticed her eyes were closed… that was why she couldn't really see the light… and then, she did something to change everything…

  She opened her eyes.

  **S**he had been in the darkness for who knows how long… there was no measurement there. There was nothing… it was a world of nothing.

  She was no longer there.

  She recalled her memories… bringing thing back into her veins until she found what she was looking for.

  Where was she now?

  She had to know… where she was now. It was no longer the world of nothingness… she could feel here… and there was light. There was color, and shape.

  She could even feel herself again… she was there. She was lying on the ground…

  She identified everything slowly… she was lying on a carpet… it was really soft, velvety… and red… bright red. There was something next to her… like where a preacher stands to read his bible… that little… _thing_, she couldn't remember the name of it. Yes! That's what it was… and above her stretched the tall, arched roof… with the painted white wooden body.

  She was in a _church_… of all places.

  She sat up… and felt dizzy. The entire world spun… swirling before her eyes with her dizziness, and she wondered if she was going to throw up.

  Once everything was still, she looked around her more… a great fear choked in her chest for who knows what reason… her eyes slowly took in every detail.

  This was completely fucked…

  She retraced her memory… she could remember back a long time… she could remember being little, just a kid… she could remember lots of things… but her more resent memories, the ones closest to this time, were fuzzy… unclear.

  She thought hard… trying so hard to remember… and forced them into focus. She had to know… had to know where she had been, how she got there, and how she got here… she just had to know.

  Slowly, slowly… the blurry pieces came back together and began to form memories… scenes… and soon, she remembered it all.

  Her throat tightened as she remembered the most resent, before being in the world of nothingness… she remembered her own death.

  She remembered, with sickening clarity, the gun fire… the bullet ripping through her side… the pain… and disgust… and release.

  She swallowed hard, and looked around again, before looked down at herself… she was warring the same clothes she remembered dying in… yet, there wasn't a bullet hole in side… and the clothes were perfectly clean. No blood, no mud, nothing… clean.

  Her fingers moved slowly… touching the rim of her collar delicately; she lifted it up a little and look in… and saw a dark, nasty scar – the nastiest scar she had ever seen in her whole "life" – right where the bullet hole should have been.

  She watched, frozen in place, as her own skin moved… It began _healing itself_, the color of the scar growing lighter and lighter and the edges moved inner and inner, healing itself… until the scar was super small, then microscopic, and then gone.

  Nothing, it was no longer there. There was no proof of death… she was alive again! She looked up at the ceiling, then back down at herself… the place where the scar and bullet hole were not… and let go of her shirt.

  She was dead… but now alive.


	2. Thgil eht Otni, Nesskard eht fo Tuo

  **A** kindred spirit was closer the one would have believe.

  He saw the same… the darkness over took him, as well. He, too, was in that realm… that world of nothing that your every day nice little psycho Christian would tell you, no doubt, was Hell… but there was no Hell, they knew that.

  He saw it, too… everything was black, everything was nothing… couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't hear, couldn't speak… and didn't want to.

  Nothing… nothing was everything, for him, too. It swallowed him, too… and, as it eventually does to us all, it began to bleed him… just as it bled her.

  He felt the same… _Let it go_… his voice, but not the same. His thoughts, but not his thoughts… was this world nothing but thoughts? Or nothing at all?

  _Let it go… let it all go._

He bled, too… his name, his look, his life, his family, his history… everything he once knew, bleeding into the darkness.

  His path would take very similar turns.

  As with her, it all stopped so suddenly with no apparent reason… and then there was the unnerving feeling, so unbearably unnerving… and then the light came.

  The light burned his eyes, too… his closed eyes… oh! How great was the pain. After being in that deep, dark, abyss of a world of darkness of nothing… the light, even through his eye lids, burned like death.

  Oh wait… death hadn't burned… infact, it hadn't really hurt that much… death was a mix of things that they would find terribly similar… horror, disgust, realization, release, stupidity, regret, pride… death was so many things.

  This, my dear, was _life_.

  This… this was life and life hurt a hell of a lot more then death, I can tell you that now for sure.

  Eventually, he got the dumb idea to open his eyes… just as she had… slowly, slowly allow in the light so it won't hurt just too much too quickly.

  It was strange – Oh! So strange – to see colors… and shapes… and _things_ again. To see at all, was strange… but then again, after you've been dead, what exactly makes sense any more? But still…

  He lay there, on the ground, in front of something, for a good long moment… trying to figure out, in his head, exactly what was going on here.

  He, unlike her, chose to think things through before trying to get up or even _move_. He, too, retraced his memory for answers… pulling it back from where he had allowed it to slip… and, too, had to bring clarity to the more resent memories.

  But, eventually, he found the same as she… death.

  His death had been _far_ bloodier, though… and, after truly trying, he remembered every little bit of it.

  He remembered being un-possessed… he remembered being pulled under the harvester and being cut into a hundred little pieces.

  He shuddered, and lifted his hand to look at it… his eyes grew wide in shock but he feared do anything else…

  There were scars… dark, deep, horrible scars… all over him.

  As if, perhaps, he'd been slashed into a hundred pieces and then fused together again… scar tissue fusing him together again.

  He watched as the jagged criss crossed, slish slashed scars became lighter and smaller… just like her scar… until they were tiny, then super small, then microscopic… and then, gone.

  He pulled himself up, trying to sit… and chose to lean against the thing behind him… which ended up being one of those places where preachers stand and place their bibles and all… he couldn't remember the name and cared not bother.

  The world spun as he was dizzy… very, very dizzy. So dizzy, he wondered if he was going to puke… he sure felt like it.

  And then, slowly, slowly… it, the world, spun gently, and then came to a stop.

  He took a deep breath and examined his surroundings… running a hand through his thick midnight black hair.

  It was a church… and a pretty damn decant one, too. With a velvet bright red carpet going up the center isle and around the alter. Rows of dark, finely polished, wooden benches stretched out in front of him.

  He heard something behind him, but dismissed it, and wondered when someone would come, if someone would find him here… and then realized if that were to happen… then he'd be alive.

  He was alive.

  He had died… he had been dead… and now he was alive… with no signs that anything had ever happened to him.

  … This would take a moment to sink in.


	3. May It Begin?

Behold! The Nightmare _presents…_

**Title:** Bring Me to Life

**Author:** Lain Monroe

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Summery:** Two leaders (Micah & Bridgi) wake up to find that they are both alive and, somehow, chosen to lead together… Will they succeed this time? Or will they meet the same bloody end? Or even worse; will it be at the hands of one another?

**Disclaimer:** I DO NOT own Micah Balding, Children of the Corn, He Who Walks Behind the Rows, or any of that stuff… I only own Bridgette Fritzen and Father Avigal.

**Author's Note:** Parts of this story may contained spoilers (mostly to the endings) of Final Sacrifice and, my fic, Harvest Mistress. Just thought I'd warn you…

"_It was a long time ago, longer now than it seems.   
A place that perhaps you have seen in your dreams...   
Welcome to my world, is it what you thought it would be?  
I am trapped inside this hell between blood queen_

_And purgatory a coop filled covered hall,_

_A tattooed baby doll,   
I've got the devil in my corner and Jesus on my wall.__.._"

- _Preacher_ by _My Ruin_.

  **S**he stood up, grasping the preacher's stand-y thing to keep from falling.

  **H**e wondered how long she had been from this world… wondered how long he had been _dead_… and shivered.

  She heard a noise behind the preacher's stand thing… and looked, but she couldn't see on the other side of it from where she stood… so she turned slowly to face it, as if she were the preacher, and stood on her tippy toes, and leaned over it to see what was on the other side.

  And, to her surprise, there was a boy there.

  He looked up at her... she looked weak and deathly pale, like a very… very… very ill person… dark shadows behind her eyes and all… just like him.

  He store upon her with a dab of shock in his sickly looking face… they store at each other for a long time… silent.

  "Hello." She said, quietly, finally.

  "Hi." He replied, smirking… the first words of his being alive again would be: hi.

  Her eyes traced him over and over again. She cocked her head to the side in a puppy like way of an innocent confused look. "Who are you?"

  "Micah…" he shut his eyes for but a moment. "… and you?"

  "Bridgette… Micah who?"

  "Micah Balding."

  "Micah Balding?" Bridgette echoed. He nodded. "I know you… you were the second leader of His children. He told me about you…"

  Micah thought for a moment, trying to remember… and so he did. "Yes, that's right…"

  Bridgette swung around the side of the priest's stand-y thing, moving quickly, she forgot their reincarnation dilemma, and moved too quickly before she had remembered the way the world works. She tripped on herself and hit the ground hard.

  "Are you alright?" Micah said in his calm, low-ish voice... a voice that always seemed to purr.

  Bridgette pushed herself up to her knees. "Yeah… thanks." She crawled in front of him to speak face-to-face with the former leader.

  … Then again, she was a former leader, too…

  "Micah…" Bridgette looked him cold in the eyes, with her unwavering stare. "You're dead… you got swallowed up by a tractor…"

  "Harvester." He corrected her.

  "Yeah… whatever." Her stare didn't change. "You're dead… what are you doing here?"

  "I don't know…" Micah confessed. "but this means I'm alive, doesn't it?"

  "I believe so…" Bridgette's eyes trailed away. "But… I'm dead, too. So I wouldn't put much stock on anything right now."

  Micah's brows lowered in suspicion. "You knew of He Who Walks Behind the Rows… You know of me… and you're dead… who are you?"

  "Bridgette Fritzen." She smiled dimly. "I was one with He, too… a leader of His children. Until I was… shot down, you might say."

  She touched her side; as if still holding her wound… but there was no longer a wound… she was alive now.

  He watched her… silent, for a long moment, before he whispered: - "We've both been brought back…"

  Bridgette nodded. "… But why? And how?"

  "Maybe… He… Who Walks Behind the Rows…"

  "Why?" Bridgette looked back up at Micah. "He abandoned us, both. Why would He bring _us_, of all leaders, back? And why now? Why the two of us, together?"

  Micah looked away… having no answers. And they both sat, silent; in wonder… pondering these questions… these questions that they'd probably never have answered. These questions that all revolved around Why.

  Finally, Bridgette broke the silence once again. "Perhaps, this is a sign… that we must be together, and form an alliance…"

  "Perhaps…" Micah echoed, still deep in thought.

  "Then so it shall be…?" Bridgette whispered… neither one knew exactly why they were whispering.

  Micah looked back up at her… and nodded slowly. "Yes."

  **T**he decision was made.

  The two spoke, together, for a good long time… trying to work out as much of these strange issues as they could.

  But some things just couldn't be answered.

  Although, they tried… coming up with several different ways this could have happened… none of which were actually _logical_. But there wasn't much logic behind coming back from the dead, now was there?

  It didn't take long to learn to walk again… to learn all the things of the world of the living all over again… only an hour.

  And once they knew… once they had worked out all these little kinks, they decided to wait in the church… wait for someone to show up…

  And so it was.

  "Ignore the past, for this is the present…"?

  **F**ather Avigal began walking up the church steps at only a few minutes before seven a.m.

  Ten, fifteen, at most.

  Today was Sunday and he was, being a preacher and all, supposed to give the typical ceremonies of the day.

  He unlocked the double doors to the large building, clutching his old bible under his arm… it was a great book, big, fat, black leather bound, shiny golden letters on the cover reading "the Holy Bible", crisp white pages that smelled of old book… very fine, very fine indeed.

  The doors came open with ease, the church was new-ish – it had only been rebuilt the years before.

  His eyes trailed up to the alter, but were disturbed by something in the back row, to his right. He took a step back, and gazed at it.

  Two children – teenagers – sat, side by side, in that row, on the center isle side of the bench…

  They both turned their heads in unison, gazing upon the old preacher with blank faces.

  Father Avigal couldn't _help_ but be shocked… not to mention the fact that the children didn't look at all normal. They were cloaked in black clothes from head to toe, except the girl whom wore white and black stripped stockings… and they both looked so ill, so inhumanly pale.

  The priest dropped his book and stepped back. "How… How did you kids get in here?"

  The boy smirked. "So sorry, Father…"

  "Did we scare you?" the girl smirked, too. The tone of their voice was similar… soft and low… blank, really.

  The preacher's mouth moved with all the possible things to say, but no words were formed. "How did you kids get in here?" he repeated. "The door was locked… double locked. How did you get in here?"

  The girl looked at the boy, and there was silence between them.  They looked back, again with blank expression. "What is the time, Father? The day? The date?"

  "W… Why, it's 7:00am… and…" Father Avigal took a long, long time to explain… longer then I've ever heard of someone taking to tell a _date_.

  It was early October.

  The girl smiled, and stood. "Thank you, Father. We'll be going now…"

  And so they did… they left… leaving behind a very… _very_… confused old man. **B**ridgette snickered at him in her mind… she had a deep disliking for priests.

  _Fool..._

_ You'll all die, soon._

    "Now _why_ couldn't I kill him?" said Bridgette.

  "Because," black eyes met green when Micah looked, as he spoke, to her. "He has not called for it yet… we have no sign of His consent."

  "_No sign of His consent_?" Bridgette stopped walking. They were walking along the street… away from the church now. That episode was over. He stopped and looked back at her. "Micah, we're _alive_… as in, not dead… where as, twenty minutes ago, we _were_ dead. How does this not strike you as a sign?"

  "We have no proof as to who brought us back," Micah said, softly… his voice was soft, a purr, almost always. "It is entirely possible that it was not He Who Walks Behind the Rows… we should wait until we have a full sign."

  Bridgette wrinkled her noise but ceased any farther protest… and, after only a moment, continued walking by his side.

  "Until then, we have other things to worry about," Micah went on, once they had continued walking.

  "Like what?" Bridgette sounded amused.

  "Well," Micah's eyes dodged up towards the sky, as he seemed to be thinking. "… Like, where we are going to stay."

  "Oh! Don't even worry about that." Bridgette answered quickly.

  "Huh?"

  "It's simple, really… I know what to do; just trust me and follow my lead." Bridgette grasped hold of his arms and yanked him forward into a jog-ish run.

  "Where are we going?" asked Micah.

  "I thought I just told you to trust me."

  **B**ridgette's long black hair flickered as she jerked around.

  Her dull green eyes glittering; she couldn't keep at least a small, devious grin from playing on her red-ish pumpkin colored lips. "Stay quiet," she whispered. Her eyes burning deep into his, as if they could penetrate and take his very soul.

  Micah nodded and watched her turn back towards the house, watched her look in the window, inspecting everywhere it would allow her to see.

  "He's in there, yes," her whisper was practically breathing. "… but he's in the bed room… it's on the completely other side of the side… Such a lazy man; a sleep at this hour. He is a shinning example of why He calls on us to serve him… against them."

  As she spoke; Bridgette raised her elbow and jammed it against and through the glass window. Micah gasped; expecting the noise would surly wake the man up and surly get them caught… doing… whatever they were doing.

Bridgette has a plan, Micah told himself, trying to reassure himself, He Who Walks Behind the Rows would not have chosen her if she were foolish enough to ruin thing just-like-that. Have faith, Micah.

Clearing away the glass, Bridgette reached up inside and unlocked the window. Then, pulled the window up and began to crawl through it.

 "What are you doing?" Micah hissed in a harsh whisper.

 "Breaking and entering," Bridgette said, cheerfully, now inside and turning back, fully intent on helping him in. "C'mon, now."

 Micah took a deep breath, held it, and accepted her help.

 Once inside; Bridgette set a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet, and then began to creep towards an internal door… leading to a kitchen… if one was to go into the kitchen (which was at the end of the house) and turn to their left; they would find the door to a bed room… wide open with the lazy middle-aged man laying in a pile of his own filth on a bed.

  "Come out, come out." Bridgette whispered, and grinned as the dirty man came awake. "Come out and play."

  The man sat up and scratched the thinning hair of his head. He watched through his door for a long moment, not seeing Bridgette hunched beside the door to the kitchen… and certainly not seeing Micah; who still up served from beside the window they had come in through.

 Standing up, the man quickly threw on a dirty old T-shirt (with holes in it and all) and a baggy (and dirty) pair of beaten gray over-alls… and began to make his way towards them.

  Bridgette backed up to Micah's side, slightly in front of him. Every mescal in her fragile body tensed and she appeared, almost, as if a cat stalking pray.

  The man staggered into the room and didn't even notice Micah nor Bridgette until he was, roughly, four feet away from them.

  "Hey!" the man burst. "What are you kids doin' in 'ere? How'd you get in 'ere?"

  Micah tensed, ready to run… or whatever he'd have to do. But, to his surprise, Bridgette relaxed and straightened up.

  "Good Sir," she smiled, wickedly, running her fingers over the window sill. "Now you know we can't tell you that… or, at least, you should."

  "What you talkin' about, Girly-Q?" Bridgette flinched, but hid all other signs of her distaste. "You'd better explain yurselves, or I might 'ave to call the po-lice."

  "No, no, Sir," Bridgette's fingers pounced and grasped something outside the window. "That won't be necessary." She pulled through a pitch fork.

  Micah's eye brows narrowed. What was she doing with that?

  Holding it tight in both hands she smiled at the man. "Really, Sir, we can't have cops around here… they might discover the body."

  "Ah, uh, what body you talking about?" Swinging the pitch fork around, the handle knocked the man in the legs. He lost his balanced and fell backwards. Bridgette jumped on him, standing above him, with the pitch fork pressed to his neck.

  "Yours," She purred, and pressed down hard. The pitch fork sliced clear through his skin and layers of tissue… right inbetween the top and second rib bone.

  He gargled on his own blood (which invaded his throat), but, eventually, fell limp and dead. Bridgette backed off; the pitch fork standing up on its own. She backed up to Micah side, again, looked at him, smiled, and said: "Bag the farmer, get his barn."

  Micah seemed puzzled. "Why the barn?"

  "Because, someone shows up, finds the body; they'd find us, too… the barn is the best place to hide… no one will think it _too_ suspicious if they find us there… and if we see cop cars coming, we run. If we see a stranger coming, we… well," she motioned towards old Farmer Brown, here. "You know what to do."

  Micah looked down at the body. "We'll have to get rid of him…"

  "Just hide him in a closet," Bridgette smiled, and moved to grab his arms. "Come on, help me. The sooner we get the farmer out of the way, the sooner we can check out _la home, sweet barn_."


	4. Tread Cautiously

Behold! The Nightmare _presents…_

**Title:** Bring Me to Life

**Author:** Arrienette.

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Summery:** Two leaders (Micah & Bridgi) wake up to find that they are both alive and, somehow, chosen to lead together… Will they succeed this time? Or will they meet the same bloody end? Or even worse; will it be at the hands of one another?

**Disclaimer:** I DO NOT own Micah, Children of the Corn, He Who Walks Behind the Rows, or any of that stuff… I only own Bridgette and Gideon. Shindo is owned by Shindo.

"_Bad things  
Dead things  
Sad things have to happen...  
Sometimes,  
Sometimes,  
Sometimes,  
Sometimes..._"

- _Dead Things_ by _Emiliana Torrini_.

**C**lose your eyes…

And Bridgette did. Sitting, with her legs crossed, on the floor of the barn, she rested her head in her hands and closed her eyes… showing dreadful posture, as always… maybe one day she'd actually form a full O.

She needed to go to The Blue Place…

What is "The Blue Place", you ask? Well, to be honest, I'm not really sure… and neither is Bridgette… Though she believed it is a place of He Who Walks Behind the Rows (she could talk, almost face-to-face, with him when in there)… created by Him, inside her mind, where her soul could wonder… and learn.

Learn how, you ask? Well… when there, at a simple request; He Who Walks Behind the Rows would allow her to look over past leaders…

Yes, that's right. He allowed her to watch their reins. With a simple touch she could walk around their worlds… and see exactly what happened on their terms… ever her own was there, now… now that she had failed.

… And she had to wonder… if this new leadership shared between Micah and herself would ever appear there…

There was a catch to what appeared there… the leader had to be dead.

The last bit: Why is it called _The Blue Place_? Because there is no light (if you're not watching an X-leader)… except for that of these strange, florescent lights… _blue_ lights. It's as if that entire world were runned through a blue filter.

So that's coverage of what we know of the place…

Now; Bridgette opened her eyes again… and there she was; The Blue Place.

She stood up, slowly, and brushed off her skirt. She watched, numbly… waiting for the Father… waiting for He Who to come to her.

And alas; he did.

"Bridgette," the powerful voice spoke her name. She turned, as if to face Him… but, as always, there was no one there. This was the only place where His voice was a voice… she could hear where it was coming from (though still, not see Him). Where as, before, His voice was just a voice in her head... "Why have you called me?"

"I have a few things to ask, Father."

"Then ask."

Bridgette took in a deep breath, and decided: _Ok… direct approach._ "Was it you who brought us back?"

"What?

"Was it you who brought us back," Bridgette repeated. "… to life?"

"I don't believe I did… No, infact, I did not."

"Then who did?"

"I do not know."

Bridgette shivered. Great, it had _not_ been He Who Walks Behind the Rows who had brought them back… someone else, no idea who, had… not to mention the fact that she had been WRONG about something… Oh! She hated that.

"Do you have anything else to ask me, my child?" He Who took her from her thoughts. He was a busy God and couldn't sit and chat all day, I guess.

"Oh, yes!" Bridgette nodded. "One last thing… if we are to be alive, as we are now… shall we continue your work?"

A pause of silence, before He spoke again. "Hmm… I had not planned for this; your reincarnation was unexpected… but it seems right. Yes, the two of you shall work together, now. You may start at once."

"Yes Father," a smile grew full on Bridgette's unnaturally pale face.

"We shall."

**M**icah returned to the barn.

Evening was dawning in the west, and golden light spilled out over everything in the small farming community of Valentine, Nebraska.

One day had gone by inbetween the day of their reincarnation and this day… a day of, merely, getting used to the idea of being alive again… it seemed Bridgette didn't care much at all… but Micah couldn't stop thinking about it.

Sighing, Micah stepping through the door of the barn, shut it behind him, and began inward. He knew he shouldn't think about it too much… if he did; it would drive him crazy… but you try being dead for who-knows-how-long and then being alive again. See if it doesn't fuck you up a little.

_Fine then… don't think about it_, he told himself. And scanned the around for a new distraction… the first thing that caught his eye was a pile of black cloths lain on the floor… which, he soon identified to be Bridgette's clothing.

_Tread… cautiously_, burst into his mind when he identified the items.

Taking slow, careful steps, he watched where he was going. "Bridgette?"

Silence, for a moment… and then… "Over here!" Her voice came from the end of the barn, in one of the stalls where a horse or a cow would usually be... and the dim, orange light of a lantern flickered from there, too. Micah hesitated, but did jog over.

Bridgette's wicked green glare greeted him; a devilish smirk playing on her pumpkin colored lips. She bounced to stand up… warring new clothes: dark blue denim hip-hugger short shorts and a black halter bikini top, and, for jewelry, a plain black choker, a black string choker with extras tickling her shoulder, and a black string necklace that had a bird's skull tied to it.

Bridgette was 5'3"; scrawny… her hair was a dirty ash blonde in color, and belly-button length. Her eyes were green, big and clear and almost always surrounded by black liquid-liner. Her chest was rather small and her hips narrow for a girl her age.

"Micah! Just who I needed to see," Bridgette beamed.

"Why? What is it?" He asked, running a hand through his own thick black hair.

"I have great news!" Micah gave her a stare that so bluntly said _"…go on"_. "I have spoken with He Who Walks Behind the Rows… he says we may resume out mission at once… together!"

Micah nodded. He wore a simple black long-sleeve shirt, black vest, black pants and black shoes… cloaked in black from head-to-toe… and, due to the degree of how ungodly skinny he was, it all hung baggy on him.

"Now your turn," Bridgette turned his attention back to her. "… What have you learned?"

"Two weeks from this upcoming Friday; the adults shall all be gathering together at the school for a parent/teacher conference… 85 of the adults in this town have a school-age child or children, that means that 85 of the adults will be at that meeting… it is the perfect time to strike."

"So we have two weeks and three days to gather up His forces?" Bridgette whispered. Micah nodded, and continued: "And we must split them into two groups… the bigger should go with us to the parent/teacher conference… the smaller should be sent to slay the remaining 15 at their homes… that way, we can finish off all the adults quickly, in one night."

Bridgette smiled wide. "Sounds wicked, let's do it."

The plan was set.

** T**wo week and three days.

Apparently; that was all the time they needed. By the chosen night they had their forces, their children, on His side. Almost all of the children were, now, behind them… ready for their mission.

Micah took the larger group to the meeting while Bridgette took the smaller to town... he knew she was much more… _attracted_ to the kill, the violence, the blood – the massacre – then he… but it was his plan so he also knew that she would let it slide

The children watched Micah timidly.

One, in particular… a young, slender girl of sixteen with shoulder length blonde hair (that hangs over the right side of her face) and dark blue eyes. Gripping a rather large kitchen knife in her right hand, her eyes watched his ever move to detail.

Was he – were they all – really going to do what he said they were going to do?

Micah closed his eyes, wandering, as he led the children, through the halls of the school. This school, alone, covered first-to-twelfth grade… due to the fact that this was a _very_ small town and all the children could fit in this one (rather large) building.

He closed his eyes and listened; listening for the whispers of the Father to guide the way… for Micah had never been in this building before; and did not know where the parents would be meeting.

Turning down a hall, he sensed they were near.

Micah opened his eyes. _One… two… three_, he counted the door as he walked by them, _four… they're in here._

He stopped abruptly. The children tripped to a halt. Turning to face them he razed a delicate, pale hand, motion towards the door and nodded… the children echoed the nod.

Micah smiled, and moved the same pale hand to touch the door knob. With a gentle twist of his wrist the door slipped open ever so little.

The voices of the adults – the heathens – floated out through the crack. Micah smirked (he never fully smiles, does he?) and pushed his way in. The children he had brought with him followed… all except for one: the slender blonde with the dark blue eyes.

But she would go unnoticed, for now.

The other children, including Micah, clumped around the door then spread out along the wall. The dark blue eyed girl watched from outside, keeping the door open only a crack.

The adults stopped their bickering, and all turned to gaze upon the children. Strange looks over took their faces… so many identifying their children. It seemed as if they all didn't even notice the weapons their children were equipped with… or, perhaps, they didn't _want_ to notice.

"Excuse me, children," A stick-figure of a man called out to the children from the other end of the room… the dark blue eyed girl identified him momentarily as the principle of the school; Mr. Parker. "This meeting his grown ups only."

"Isn't that that point?" Micah purred in reply; his eyes steadily bouncing from adults to adult… from heathen to heathen… where as; the other children all had their eyes locked on one… their parents or parental guardian.

Mr. Parker stuttered out a series of random sounds that added up to nothing. A strange and confused expression etched every line into his face. Finally, he said something that actually made some valid sense: "C-can we… help you?"

Micah sighed through his nose and bit down hard on his lip. "No… no, I don't believe you can."

The look of confusion only grew on Mr. Parker's face.

It seemed all the adults were confused… with confused looks on their faces… except some, a small few more red-neck them the others, who seemed down right angry with the interruption.

Micah looked back at His children, the small smirk beginning to form again on his direly pale lips, and made a _"go on"_ sort of motion.

The children knew exactly what he meant and obeyed his orders. Springing to life; the first shot that would be fired, so to speak, came from a tawny haired sixteen or seventeen years old boy named Gideon Manson (who had been appointed Right-Hand-Man to Bridgette and Micah… even though such wasn't _exactly_ necessary). He slammed the blade of his sickle deep in the back of a woman whose hair (naturally auburn) was beginning to gray.

_Marissa Harrison_. She shrieked; a gaggley sort of sound, threw her arms ups, then crashed face-first to the table she was sitting at… bloody.

A shaky smile formed, somehow, on Gideon's face… and he yanked his sickle back out of her back; a sickening noise produced.

The other adults were all, now, frozen in terror… it made them easy targets… Hell, it made them _perfect_ targets!

The children spread out, then, through the entire room… a bloody massacre taking place right before the blonde's eyes… and Micah, their "leader", may have, himself, killed one or two people there, that night.

Shindo Lewis, our dark blue eyed blonde, watched all this take place… it took only five, ten, fifteen minutes… not long before they were all laying dead on the floor and in their chairs… thrown over the tables or left just in a heap.

When the children were finished, they slower gathered together again… it struck Shindo, then, that they would soon leave their massacre behind… and discover her… discover that she hadn't done a thing… not a thing, but watched. She couldn't let that happen… Lord only knows what they'd do to her. So she did something _completely _and_ totally_ out of character..:

She turned… and ran.

**B**ridgette wandered into the kitchen.

... She couldn't sleep... sometimes she couldn't... sometimes she had bipolar periods of insomnia... it happens.

Catching the numbers of the ticking clock; it was late 1, nearing 2, a.m... _Tomorrow, already?_, but that was good... because, after dawn, they were going to move into a lovely house closer in town... It was old and seemed the perfect image of a life-size Victorian (age) doll house (in Bridgette's opinion, anyway)… Painted a lovely deep purple, it was, with a plain, wooden porch that went around two of the four side of the lovely house: the left and the front.

A few days had gone by since, what was now referred to as, the Chosen Night. All arrangements, painstakingly, had been made... now; they were merely preparing to fulfill them. Many new rules had been made; too… the way of life around these parts was now (and, hopefully, forever) His way of life.

There was more then enough room for a third person to stay in the house (and a guest room, of course), but Bridgette dreaded the idea of having Gideon _living_ with them… which would be him because he was next in the "food chain"… But hey; life was fine as just Bridgette and Micah.

She smiled, mindlessly. Yeah… she really liked Micah… I MEAN, um… _leading_ with Micah… yeah… cough, cough.

Bridgette wandered over to the cabinet, standing on her tippy toes; she pulled out a cup, then turned to the fridge, pulled it open, and filled the cup with milk.

She took a quick gulp of the creamy white liquid... and stopped.

What was that sound?

She turned towards the back door... there was a scratching sound, coming from out side... a soft, gentle scratching sound... and muffled moans... that seemed to whine and beg at the same time.

Bridgette forgot she was carrying the glass of milk and padded over to the door without remembering to set it down.

She brushed a side the curtain... but couldn't see anything outside... so she looked at the knob... _Should I do it?_, she pondered. _Fuck, why not?_ She gasped it, twisted, and yanked the door open.

"_MEROW_!" the little voice declared, eagerly.

A kitten... it was a kitten.

Bridgette crouched down. The kitten jumped on her lap and began to burrow into her stomach and arms, meowing loudly and rapidly as if trying to explain to Bridgette what had happened to her.

"_Shhh_, _shhh_, be calm... it's alright, everything is alright, now..." Bridgette just kept telling the little kitty, clutching it close to her... the kitten was _so_ small! It could sit, even sleep, in two hands comfortably with room to spare.

It was a solid stone grey kitten, short furred, with a white chin, white front paws, white back legs, and a fat white stripe down his chest... it had the longest, scrawny, bony, triangular, little tail Bridgette had ever seen!

She'd guessed it'd be, about, 3 weeks... 3 1/2 at the max.

The kitten looked up at her with eyes that had not yet taken on their own color, still a dark, almost blue/black, blue... with the black pupils still untrained to thin or expand, only a bit darker then the irises... and began to settle down as Bridgette held it up in her hands, looking at it, too... it was so small, she had to wonder if it was old enough to leave its mother... but then again, it seemed so.

So small... so fragile...

And Bridgette was hooked.


	5. Blood On The Moon

Behold! The Nightmare _presents…_

**Title:** Bring Me to Life

**Author:** Lain Monroe

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Summery:** Two leaders (Micah & Bridgi) wake up to find that they are both alive and, somehow, chosen to lead together… Will they succeed this time? Or will they meet the same bloody end? Or even worse; will it be at the hands of one another?

**Disclaimer:** I DO NOT own Micah, Children of the Corn, He Who Walks Behind the Rows, or any of that stuff… I do own Bridgette, Gideon, Aaron, Sean, and Justin. Shindo is owned by Shindo.

"_And I...   
Give you just a little time   
I... Wonder if you realize   
I... I've been waiting till I see it in your eyes..._"

            -_Breathe_ by _Michelle Branch_.

** T**he sun hung bright golden yellow in the sky.

 Bridgette, sometimes, wished she had lighter colored hair… so that that the golden radiance of the sun could make her sparkle… but when she really though about it; she loved her midnight black hair and wouldn't, really, have it any other way.

 A few days had gone by since, what was now referred to as, the Chosen Night. A cool breeze blew in from the East/North East. Bridgette sat outside on the porch steps of a large, deep purple house.

  ... With Charlotte, of course.

Charlotte, the kit, don't you remember? She mewed, weakly... the kit was very small and easy to catch cold... so Bridgette held it, rapped up in her arms. Charlotte nestled her claws in the fabric of Bridgette's over sized sleeves.

  Bridgette already loved Charlotte... he was so officially hers... she had showed it to Micah the night before, when she returned after meeting the kit... one arm devoted to holding it; the other hand had slipped and the door had flown against it's frame... making a rather loud noise that awakened Micah.

  Though she apologized and showed him her new treasure... and what a treasure a kitten is. It was a good thing that Micah liked cats... because if he hadn't, they were, after all, sharing a house together... and she sure-as-hell wasn't getting rid of it.

  No... She loved the cat already... and it needed her... it had no Mama... it had no one! No one in all the world... and it needed someone to take care of it... or it would die.

Standing up; she figured she'd better go back in the house now… there were still many choirs to do and her brake was probably almost over.

   **M**icah slowly came down the steps…

 … To find Bridgette sitting on the couch, slouched back against it in her typically horrible fashion of posture.

 He smiled to see her tip her head back, up-side-down, to see him. She echoed the smile and he came to sit beside her and the kit.

 "Hey, what's up?" Bridgette chimed, most cheerfully, as he sat down beside her.

 He opened his mouth to speak but stopped… caught by her deep, green gaze. He stopped.

   He knew it was blasphemous… against His ways… but Bridgette was alike him, right? A leader, a seer… so, perhaps, it would be alright… surely He Who Walks Behind the Rows would not be angry with him for her… surely not her!

 So, with only those things plaguing his thoughts, he leaned forward…

 And kissed her.

 Bridgette was surprised, at first, and it suddenly struck Micah that it was entirely possible _she_ would be angry with him for it… which would, most definitely, result in pain… very much pain… but, much to his surprise, she began to kiss back… hard… hungrily.

 The kiss didn't end for a long, long time until they both seemed to pull away in unison. Breathing heavy; they sat together, for a long moment, just starring… starring at each other. Before Micah spoke: -

 "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ha-" Bridgette interrupted Micah by pressing another hard kiss to his lips. It was, then, his turn to be shocked. But shock quickly fainted into a pleasant sort of surprise as he returned the kiss, again.

 The outcome to this kiss was pretty much the same. Except, this time, Bridgette spoke next..: -

 "Do you love me?" she whispered, after longer time then it had taken for him to speak before.

 "I," Micah stuttered. "I think… I'm pretty sure… I…"

 Bridgette's face seemed to plead with him to go on, though it was not much in her nature (or in his, for that matter) to plead.

 Micah, finally, sorted out his thoughts enough to nod. "… I do."

 A smile twisted Bridgette's pumpkin colored lips in a way that was far more pleasant then her usual wicked smirks… and she kissed him again.

 This kiss… far softer… far sweeter.

**_ F_**_reakishly normal…_

 That was what Bridgette called the way things were, now… freakishly normal. But they weren't really normal at all, now, were they? Considering both parties had never actually _succeeded_ before… so, yeah, it was a little strange.

 Oh, and, yes, it appeared they had succeeded… now.

 With all the children at work in the fields or around town and everyone doing daily choirs… with Gideon's constant hunger for some bloody excitement, that Micah had to hope would not come, around these warm and humble parts… an entire town run on simple, daily life by children.

 It seemed they weren't all that violent when life was normal and they had finished their bloody task of doing away with all adults.

 But there would still be defilers, now wouldn't there? To give Gideon that "bloody excitement" he so craved… things would never work out just perfect, no.

 There was still much in stored for their little town.

** M**icah shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand.

 Surveying what he could see; he spotted Bridgette, walking along the road, with an irritated look on her face… and then spotted why.

 Gideon. Gideon was following her, chasing after her, clearly trying to speak with her about something, though she refused to tolerate him.

 Boy, she really disliked Gideon.

 "Go away, Gideon." Bridgette said firmly.

 "Bridgette, I've got to speak to you!" Gideon protested, chasing after the bitchy headstrong teenager. She was just impossible to him!

 "_Goodies_. Go away."

 "But it's important!"

 "Don't care."

 "Bridgette!" Gideon continued, tripping between jogging and walking to stay firmly behind her, brushing his tawny curly hair away from his chestnut brown eyes. She should have more respect for him; he was older, stronger, and almost as blood thirsty. "I'm serious."

 "I… don't… care," Bridgette said slowly, as if he could not understand normal human speech. "Leave… me… alone."

 Gideon did a ballsy (not to mention stupid) thing; he grasped her arm and jerked her around to face him. "At least tell me where Micah is; he's a far better leader then _you_ will ever be."

 Bridgette snarled… lashing out; she grabbed his arm and twisted it around _just_ before the breaking point.

 "Hey!" called Micah, unsure of what else to do. He jogged over to the two. "What is going on here?"

 Bridgette snarl eased; but she still had that _all-hell_ look on her face. She threw down Gideon's arm as if it were glass and would fall and would shatter into a million pieces when it hit the ground. "Nothing," she growled, taking a step or two back. "… nothing at all."

 "Micah," Gideon breathed, clutching his near-broken arm. Micah could almost hear Gideon's mind shouting: _Finally! Someone who will listen! _"I have… to speak with you."

 "Yes? What is it, Gideon?"

 "Outlanders," Gideon took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out.

 "_What_?" Micah didn't notice if it was him or Bridgette who had hissed the word… and suddenly; Bridgette was by his side.

 "I tried to tell Bridgi," Gideon went on. "But she wouldn't listen. A group of children have rebelled and formed a resistance; they hiding in a house on the out skirts of town. I made sure Sean and Justin (they're guarding the exit on that side of town) didn't let 'em through… though they weren't tryna get through… but that's how I found out about 'em, anyway."

 "What does that have to do with outlanders?" Micah demanded. He felt Bridgette begin to tremble at his side… he was surprised; that she would show fear in company… as specially in front of Gideon… and that's when he realized she wouldn't… she was so scared; she couldn't fight it... but why?

  He set an arm tightly around her shoulders.

 "Shindo Lewis – their leader – has called upon outlanders… and not just any outlanders, Micah… they're…" Gideon paused. A strange look Micah had never seen took over his eyes and his face.

 "They're what?" Micah tried to say gently… and succeeded, too.

 "They're cop, police officers."

 Bridgette shivered violently against him upon the word. Micah held her even tighter. He looked at her face… she showed no sign whatsoever of being afraid aside from the trembling.

 "So let me get this straight," Micah recapped, forcing his eyes from Bridgette. "There is a group of rebelling children, how many?"

 "Only four," Gideon answered. "Shindo, April Frost, Derek Frost and Aaron Corrion."

 That's not bad… Shindo was sixteen, April was eleven, Derek was only seven or eight, Aaron was the oldest at seventeen.

 "… and they've called police men?" Micah went on. "On us?"

 Gideon nodded. "She must have told them about the deaths… what are we going to do, Micah?"

 They all stopped and glanced in the direction of the church as the bells rang out against the blue fall sky.

 That bell marked 6:00p.m.

 "I don't know…" said Micah, honestly. "Bridgette and I will think about it… we'll have something by tomorrow afternoon."

 "How do you know about this?" Bridgette asked, shakily. "… about the phone call and the outlanders?"

 "Mary Malloy saw them… she saw them make the call."

 "She must be rewarded," Micah muttered, looking at Bridgette who just store forward... her mind; clearly in other places.

 Gideon watched them for a long moment; a little shocked… he had no idea they were an item! Honestly, he would have thought Micah to have better taste then the rude Goth.

 But, hey… life's full of surprises.

 **S**tray moonlight came in through the curtain.

 Bridgette's dull green eyes opened slowly to its greeting; then traced upward until they found the clock on the bedside nightstand… its bright green numbers glowed 3:45a.m.

 _It's late_, Bridgette thought, spotting the sleepy Charlotte under one of arms, she turned her head to the other side to find Micah's sleep figure beside her, his arm draped around her slender waist.

 Now don't get your dirty little hopes up; they were both fully dressed in night clothes and had no intention of doing anything perverted at any time… they just slept in the same bed. They had slept side by side since the second night of their reincarnation; back on the floor of the barn… of course, then it was to keep from freezing their toes off… now it was habit… and one they had no reason to break.

 He was truly darling when he slept… so innocent and mild… you'd never guess all the "horrible" things he had done and was capable of... never.

 He was beautiful… perfect.

 Bridgette smiled, warmly, as she watched him sleeping and wondered where his mind was… what he was dreaming of… or if he was dreaming at all.

 Rubbing her eyes; she shimmied out from under his arm, careful not to wake the kit, and sat up, the window seeming to call her to its glow. She stood and walked over.

 Touching the sill gingerly; she brushed aside the curtain and took only seconds before she had spotted the moon… it was a beautiful, full moon… bloated in the dark fall sky. A cold breeze brushed by, shaking the leaves on the trees, flickering the moon light.

 _Blood on the moon_, Bridgette realized.

 Touching the glass, as if she could touch the moon, she shivered… the glass was ice cold… and it was then she noticed that it was quite cold... a cold night.

 Bridgette stopped. She caught a gleaming reflection in the glass and froze; trying to be sure of the identification of the object.

 A blade… a knife!

 She began to turn her head; the beginning of the beginning of turning around, but before she could Micah brought the knife blade down into her back with an estranged cry she could never image him to have made.

 **M**icah jerked awake.

 He shot, to sit, straight up in bed; his dark/black eyes shook back and forth for a long moment before they began to jerk more completely around the room.

 The window burned in his eyes and he jerked to look at it; examining it franticly… no. There was no blood, no gleaming blade, no body crumbled on the ground… no.

 Not Bridgette.

 Suddenly he remembered, and looked beside him… the darkness counteracted with the light he had just seen from the window and he couldn't see anything for a long moment… too long! It felt like all eternity, to Micah.

 But then, he could see again… a calm, sleeping Bridgette lay beside him. Her beautiful, beautiful hair strewn over her pale face… her cat eyes green eyes hidden behind her resting eye lids... and that stupid kit sleeping under her arm.

 But she was alright.

 He, slowly, sunk back down to lay beside her again… keeping his eyes steady and solid on her peaceful face; he gently brushed the hair away from it, fragilely brushing it behind her ear… she never wore it behind her ear.

 He felt something… _special for her… something he had never felt before; not for anyone. To him, she was so beautiful… so perfect… he believed that that feeling was called love… though how should he know? No one had ever loved him before… and, certainly, he had never loved anyone before… but, if he could guess at this indescribable feeling, he loved her…_

 And she was alright… he hadn't hurt her.

 But it seemed so real… he could _feel_ the knife handle in his hand, he saw the deep red blood pour out of her back, near the left scapula bone, where he had struck.

 He shivered… but she was alright, he hadn't hurt her… but shivered again, this time; far more violently for the thoughts that then stung his mind.

 He didn't trust himself _not_ to hurt her…


	6. Confronting Problems

Behold! The Nightmare _presents…_

**Title:** Bring Me to Life

**Author:** Lain Monroe

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Summery:** Two leaders (Micah & Bridgi) return to life to find that they are both alive and, somehow, chosen to lead together… Will they succeed this time? Or will they meet the same bloody end? Or even worse; will it be at the hands of one another?

**Disclaimer:** I DO NOT own Micah, Children of the Corn, He Who Walks Behind the Rows, or any of that stuff… I do own Bridgette, Gideon, and Aaron. Shindo is owned by Shindo. April Frost is owned by Brittney.
    
    "_Fear makes you fragile darling_
    
    _Hate is so heavy when you're weak_
    
    _Now we're both lost in anger_
    
    _When we're alone we'll_
    
    _Find some peace..._"

_            - What Do You Need?_ by the_ Goo Goo Dolls_.

  **"… W**ell, couldn't we try stalking them down in a town before ours?" Micah suggested. It was the next morning… at, around, 11:00 a.m. He sat, face to face, with a hunching Bridgette; leaning forward, her arms draped down, pampering Charlotte who sat in her lap, her legs crossed. His posture; a plain, sitting up, arms at his sides, legs crossed… not even slightly close to as bad as hers.

  They sat on his bed… the only light in room; day light glowing through the windows. They needed to figure out what to do about these outlanders… they had been discussing the matter for hours and hours… since, very shortly after, they both woke up. They hadn't even eaten yet… they needed to figure this out; they had to! It was _so_ important! The entire mission rested on it… what they chose to do about it… but what could they do?

  Bridgette shook her head, gently. "No… we'd be noticed. The towns around here are small, Micah. Everybody knows everybody. They'd know we weren't regulars… and these outlanders are not just outlanders… they're _police officers_… with guns."

  The last words made Micah hang his head... "We can't stand up against guns."

  Bridgette reached out to set a hand on his shoulder… but stopped, and drew back… a strange look spread on her face like the plague. "We can't stand up to them at all!"

  "_What_?" _That's not at all like Bridgette_..., Micah thought.

  "I've been thinking, Micah… the thought first struck me Yesterday… and I thought about it all last night… Micah, the reason we died was Him… we died for Him… but then, being the all powerful God He is, why did He let us die? Why didn't he stop what was happening? Save us?"

  Micah looked up… totally and completely shocked. Bridgette had once spoke to him of how, before her rein, she had been a suicidal wreck… a total and complete mess that didn't give the slightest of a damn about anything… and certainly not herself… and then, when she had become one with He, it seem that, suddenly, everything had purpose… even her. Everything was as it was supposed to be and she loved it… she loved everything, then… funny; how she died in the one time in her life she didn't want to die.

  … But that's out of the point. The point is; this wasn't _at all_ like her. No, this was very different.

  "Bridge, what are you talking about?" Micah asked, softly.

  Her eyes became glassy and, for a moment, Micah wondered if she was going to cry. "We died because of Him… it was _"His will"_?" It sounded more like a question then a statement. "But we didn't know that then… how do we know that it's not "His Will" that we die, now, this time? Perhaps, even, in this up coming ordeal with the outlanders… the FBI."

  "Bridgette, no…" Micah realized he was pleading, and quickly changed his line of speech to the first thing that popped into his head: "What are you getting at?"

  "As long as we stay with He Who Walks Behind the Rows," she began… and Micah realized she _was_ going to cry. "… we will die."

  Micah leaned forwards and rapped his arms around her neck and shoulders… hugging her; holding her close… he whispered: "_Shhh_, Bridgette… you're wrong… we're not going to die, Bridgi… not again… we're not going to die…"

  She began to cry as soon as he rapped his arms around her… and she cried against him… he thought: _This is so wrong…_

_  This is all wrong…_

_  That's blasphemy, Bridgette._

  **M**icah stood up on the slightly elevated platform.

  He looked down at Bridgette, who sat beside him and slightly in front of him… looking up and back at him… her legs hanging off the edge, crossed at the ankles... holding the kit close to her chest, rapped up warm in her hands.

  The children were all gathered around… waiting for the meeting to get underway… for their leaders to tell them what to do… to make them totally aware of what was happening… Gideon had already given them the rough draft that there were outlanders coming and Micah and Bridgette had been in discussions over what to do about it all day… which it was, now, late afternoon.

  They hadn't come up with much…

  Micah frowned and motioned for Bridgette to stand and join him. She shook her head _No_, ever so slightly. Then motioned for him to go on… he understood… she wasn't quite alright today.

  He turned to the children… they all gathered around… waiting.

  "Welcome again, my brothers and sisters," Micah opened. "We have called you all here today for gravely important reasons… as our good brother Gideon has already informed you, there are outlanders on their way here… but what he has not told you is that these outlanders are police men… sent to end our happiness… to destroy us and our town!"

  A gasp rose from the crowd of children like an ocean wave. Micah razed a hand to request their silence… they obeyed, of course.

  He continued: -

  "As you must understand, we cannot let this happen… there are now the questions of, "What can we do?" "How can we stop them?"... well, to be honest, my children, I am unsure…"

  An objection rose out of the crowd… mostly from the older, more violent boys… angry with their leaders? But what could they do? What could anyone do?

  "Please, please, be calm!" Micah had to shout for them to hear him. It took them a long moment to ponder; but then they obeyed. "… Bridgette and I _have_ come to this much of a conclusion… no matter what; we can always fight back… if worst comes to worst and there is nothing we can do then the older children, thirteen and up, will gather together, receive weapons, and fight the outlanders!"

  The more violent children were pleased, now… most were please... except, maybe, a small few. But not all can be won… they'd just have to do what they could do.

  Bridgette cringed when Micah gave the order. Her words seemed to float on the air like an overdose of stinky perfume…

  _If we stay with He Who, we will die._

  **M**icah turned to Bridgette.

 She wrinkled her nose; starring up at the rickety building… the little house the rebels were hiding in. It was a beaten old off-white farm house; the paint peelings, the windows all boarded up, the small wooden porch falling down, it was a mess.

  The previous day had passed… their plan was still incomplete… the outlander were farther then three towns over (at least… they sent three of the children out before to keep watch of near-by towns so they would better know when the outlanders were approaching). There were here, now, to take care of the rebels.

  Micah began, trooping up the gravel drive way to the ransacked old farm house… shrugging, Bridgette followed.

  Pushing through, into the house, Micah strode in as if he owned the place… Bridgette, making a smoother entrance, slipped in on his tail.

 "Cozy," she muttered… do I even need to tell that was sarcasm?

 A young girl known to be April Frost had been resting on the couch stirred at the sound of voices and jerked awake when she traced it to the psychopath cult leader that, now, stood in the same living room before her.

 April Frost; eleven years of age (though she could pass for older; she was tall… at eye level with Bridgi) with short, bleached blonde hair with blue high-lights and white tainted royal blue eyes. She dressed in a short sleeved red T-shirt with "You Can't Afford Me" written on the chest in blue glitter, the words outlined in white stitch, and bell-bottom jeans.

 April yelped and scurried to sit up, brushing the hair from her golden tanned skin.

 At her yelp; the other rebels all seemed to scurry into the room like mindless rats. Aaron stopped around the far wall from Bridgette and Micah… Derek tried to run to his sister but Aaron held him… leaving April closest… except one.

 The blonde with the dark blue eyes, Shindo, stepped out and in front of the younger girl… it was most clear that _she_ was the leader of this resistance group.

 She was dressed in a black T-shirt with the word "Cruel" screened on the front in red, fancy, Diablo writing… with it; black, loose denim jeans and black boots.

 Micah smirked, slightly, amused by the rebel's display… they were clearly frightened of them… as they should be… all except that girl! She wasn't scared of them at all… not even in the littlest bit.

 He turned to her, then. His smirk, somehow, seemed nasty towards her. "… and what a brave little angel we have here."

 Shindo narrowed her eyes. He was in no position to be calling her "_little_".

 "Get… out…" she said slowly, standing tall. Suddenly he felt it, wafting off of her like scalding waves of heat… she was not at all the honest and innocent girl she appeared to be… in her heart, in her soul… she was tool of the Devil (so to speak)… though she made no doubts about being quiet and mysterious in her ways.

 "No thank you," Bridgette smiled, fakely. "I think we'll stay a while…"

 Shindo watched Bridgette, unsurely – somehow knowing that _she_ was the one who didn't care about spilling blood before or after the age of favor, so long as the ones whose is spilled is a defiler – but stood her ground.

 "I understand that you children refuse to take part in our happy community," said Micah.

 "Yeah, good for you," Shindo flicked a strand of blonde hair that had fallen into her left eye back; her dark blue eyes intense.

 "That is simply unacceptable."

 "It doesn't matter!" April suddenly burst, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Shindo's eyes pleaded with her to be silent but it was too late. "You guys are just retarded weirdoes! And you're psychopaths, too, you know that?! We're not working for you and there's nothing you can do to make us!"

 Bridgette smiled, warily. Shindo jerked to look upon her. Micah could almost hear her screaming _No!_ "Well would you look at that," Bridgette purred, stalking, slowly, a crossed the floor to the child; April, hunched on the couch where she had previously been sleeping. "Such strong words for such a… small… fragile… child."

 Bridgette ran her hand down April's cheek, slowly, gently. April shivered and cringed, expecting pain.

 "Don't you dare hurt her!" Shindo barked.

 Bridgette turned, slowly, allowing her hand to fall from the child's face. "Now what makes you think that I would do a thing like that?"

 **S**hindo's eyes were ablaze with rage, but her face remained blank and cold… solid. _Now is not the time…_, she kept telling herself. _Now is not the time… have patience… have patience, old girl._

 **M**icah watched the display between the two girls, idly. His interest was fading in Shindo and her little "_rebel_" group. "Bridgette, dear,"

 Bridgette looked upon him, now. "Yes, _darling_?" she said "darling" in a peculiar way… with a strange accent… something you'd hear from super high class ladies in London or New York, sipping on expensive teas, warring thousand dollar dressed, and parading around diamond covered mansions.

 He motioned for her to come to him and she did… then, he spoke, whispering to her: "Let's finish this…"

  Bridgette nodded and turned back to them… she held both her hands behind her back, casually, and slid the large hunting knife out from under her shirt. "Alright…" she spoke to them now. "If you refuse to join us… then you shall be treated just as you deserve… _just like them_."

  She said the last three words slow enough to stop ones' breathing. Shindo's eyes grew hugely wide with panic. "Get out!" she shrieked… an order to her comrades… and possibly a plea to Micah and Bridge. But no one moved… they were all frozen in place. "GET OUT!"

  Bridgette brought out her arms and flipped the knife right side up in one hand. She turned her fierce green gaze on Aaron, who was running to the door with Derek. With a quick series of jerks of her arm she flung the knife straight into the seventeen-year-old's back; right inbetween the two scapula bones. He cried out, blood spurting from the new wound... and fell, face first, to the floor.

  "NOOOO!" Shindo shrieked. Her features tight in panic, fear, and rage. She spun on Bridgette; evil burning in her deep blue eyes. The look that cursed her face seemed as if it, alone, could kill.

  Bridgette, with her chin up and a cocky grin on her face, flowed right past Shindo, brushing her out of the way. The look of hate only grew on her face.

  Bridgette bent down and yanked her long, gleaming hunting knife out of the dead body of Aaron Corrion's back. Little, eight-year-old, Derek stood… whining in fear. A cute little Latino with rather long clipped dirty brown hair, dark skin, and chocolaty brown eyes, was he. Some of Aaron's blood had spattered onto his clothing and face and hands.

  Bridgette smiled at him, and whispered, so only he could hear: - "You are young… there is still a chance for you. We'll take you away from this mess… you will be one with us, in our group. Don't be afraid…"

  The boy felt soothed by her words, and nodded.

  Bridgette stood and turned back to the rest of the room. Bridgette could read Micah's words in his eyes before he said anything…

  His eyes asked: _"Which one do you want?"_

  And hers' responded: _"Either one is fine with me… why don't we save Shindo; keep her as a sacrifice… give her to He Who Walks Behind the Rows in front of all the children on the eve after we take care of the outlanders… as a celebration."_

  And his said: _"Perfect…"_

  And hers spoke again, lastly: _"… now take April."_

  Micah turned to the weird looking eleven-year-old… blue and bleached blonde striped hair? Royal blue eyes with white flakes? Although; her sense of fashion was a picture perfect image of what your typically normal preppy girl wares at that point in time… our time… now.

  He looked up at Bridgette. _"I hate to kill children,"_ he eyes said… but he continued, anyway. It was his duty as they were defilers.

  The girl wormed, leaning as far back into the couch as she could, she would be pale with terror were it not for how warmly goldenly tanned her skin was. She was so scared… Micah, having more sympathy for them then Bridgette, would make it quick on her… so she would not have to suffer too much.

  Taking the knife from where he had hidden it in his sleeve, he held it up tall. April screamed and began to kick at the couch to let her back up into the couch even more… even though she couldn't.

  Micah sighed, _tsked, tsked_, and shook him head. Did they honestly believe that screaming and whining like that would or even _could_ change anything?

  Shindo began to leap for him, to stop him from cutting the girl… but Bridgette was on her before she ever made it half way a crossed the room towards him. She grabbed Shindo's arms and twisted them most painfully until she fell to her knees and into a reluctant submission.

  Micah watched this take place… standing strong before April; his arms at his sides.… April didn't take her eyes off of him for one second. He turned back to her… his lips twisted in the perfect combination of a smirk and frown.

  Micah brought back his arm and the knife. "No! Please! No! AAHHH!" April shrieked… but it was useless… ever so useless. The knife swung around, cutting her throat wide open in a great gash… slitting her throat.

  She clutched it… and just sat there on the couch, holding her neck, bleeding everywhere… for, about, two minutes… and then she was dead. She slumped back limply… dead… very dead.

  Micah looked at Bridgette; breathing heavy… blank… her face was solemn.

  "Trust not those whose the desire to punish is great," Bridgette whispered… a quote from Fredrick Nietztch.

  Shindo glared out with eyes full of deep, black hate at both of them. Her beautiful facial features around her eyes and upper nose twisted in her rage… she was theirs', now.

  … Their sacrifice?


	7. Free: the Final Chapter

Behold! The Nightmare _presents…_

**Title:** Bring Me to Life

**Author:** Lain Monroe

**Rating:** PG-13.

**Summery:** Two leaders (Micah & Bridgi) return to life to find that they are both alive and, somehow, chosen to lead together… Will they succeed this time? Or will they meet the same bloody end? Or even worse; will it be at the hands of one another?

**Disclaimer:** I DO NOT own Micah, Children of the Corn, He Who Walks Behind the Rows, or any of that stuff… I do own Bridgette, Timothy, and Gideon. Shindo is owned by Shindo. Tabitha is owned by Gwen.

"_Trust not those whose desire to punish is great…_"

_-Fredrick Nietztch_

  **M**icah arched a brow.

  He arched a brow at her, sitting there, with her legs crossed, preparing for him to leave so that she could hang her hand and…

  … And what?

  And return to the Blue Place.

  It was only that same evening… the evening after they took care of Shindo and her rebel group… Shindo was being held somewhere down town… watched 24/7 incase she tried anything funny.

  The outlanders were going to be there soon… perhaps, even, as early as the next night…

  _She's planning something_, Micah thought… and then scolded himself for being so suspicious. But still asked: "Why have you chosen to go to the Blue Place today?"

  Micah didn't have the ability to visit the Blue Place. It was something special only Bridgette could do.

  Her eyes flew to wide innocence. "For more studies… in case something like this may have happened before. I would like to see if there is anything to help us with _our_ little outlander dilemma… what? Why did you think?"

  Micah shook his head. "Nothing, never mind."

  ... and he left.

  Bridgette frowned... and closed her eyes; meditating until she was in the Blue Place again. When she opened her eyes; there she was. She stood up and waited for He Who Walks Behind the Rows, as always.

  "Bridgette? Lovely to see you." Said the voice she could never locate... His voice. "How many I help you this day?"

  "Nothing much," Bridgette said, softly, smiling. "I only wish to study past leader's terms again..."

  "As you wish... Is that all?"

  "Yes."

  The voice was gone and the boxes appeared... 12 inch (height) by 15 inch (width) boxed images... that appeared right at eye length and circled her... all with different images in them... each one a different leader with a different story... and all she need do is touch them to activate them.

  She glanced at her own... the images of herself moving around in the box... she would watch that one... she was here today to watch two, in particular..: Micah's and her own. She decided to watch his, first.

  Turning, she touched her fingers, delicately, to the floating image of Micah moving about... the entire world flushed full with the scene of a cornfield... she was watching his rein, now, as if she were there, in that world...

  But she wasn't.

  She'd never be.

  **T**abitha Reed was only true friend Micah had made...

  ... Beside Bridgette, of course. Sure, he knew a lot of the children... he knew almost all of them on first-name a basis. But Tabitha; she was a real friend... Tabitha, with her arm-pit-length light red hair and jade colored eyes... pale, but not too pale, peach skin... skinny but shorter then all the other girls... warring an orange, short sleeve, ankle-length  dress... she didn't ware jewelry because she was allergic.

  Before they had taken Valentine; all Tabitha wanted was to grow up and move away from this town... move to the city and become a secretary somewhere (no, she wasn't too ambitious). Her Mother had died of unknown causes, so she had lived alone with her Father... she was a smart girl, obsessively organized... not particularly good at anything... but not particularly bad, either... she disliked T.V so she was always reading... constantly reading classic books and classic poetry; she always had a lovely classic paper-back with her.

  That was his good friend Tabitha Reed... he watched her gingerly lift the large, sword-like knife... it was more then clear that she wasn't one to wield a weapon... she was too smart to believe that violence was ever good for anything... but she didn't have a choice.

  Micah hadn't forced her to kill her Father... Gideon had done it for her... so if she were to kill an outlander today; it would be her _first_ kill.

  She gave him a look that almost said right out loud _"I don't want to do this..."_. Micah ignored it.

  The outlanders were approaching... as was the evening... the sun setting off to the west cast dark, bloody gold all over everything... Tabitha's hair was lit up bright and burning... the outlanders were in the next town over... Tim, whom had been stationed in there, estimated that they would be in Valentine in, about, an hour... an hour and a half, hour and forty-five minutes, if they were lucky.

  "You can do it, Tabitha," Micah told her. "Fight for your home... our home. We'll win together or together we'll fall."

  Tabitha paused for a long moment. "... We won't fall." Micah could tell, by the way that she said that, she didn't believe it.

  He nodded.

  "Micah!" A voice called from behind them, urgency as clear as day from night in it. Both Tabitha and Micah turned to see whom the voice belonged to...

  Bridgette ran as fast as her feet would take her a crossed the grass. She called Micah's name. It had been her. Within moments, she was at his side.

  She panted for breath for a long moment, saying inbetween gasps: "Micah... I need... to talk... to you..."

  "About what, Bridgi?" Micah asked, softly, watching her with blatant curiosity.

  "I..." her deep green eyes trailed up on Tabitha. "I can't say... just... come with me... it will only take a minute..."

  Micah sighed and turned to Tabitha. "Please excuse us... if we are late, you and Gideon, prepare the children... aware Rachael, now, to round up all the younger children and keep them safe in town hall. Make sure she stays with them and does not try to fight. To protect them is _her_ job."

  Tabitha nodded and ran off to do as she was told.

  Micah turned back to Bridgette. "What is it?"

  "Come," was all she said... grabbed his arm, and yanked him to run.

  Bridgette brought him back to the barn.

  Back to the barn where they had stayed when they first came to Valentine... before they had done away with all the adults and, even, before they had convinced a single child besides themselves of He Who Walks Behind the Rows' will.

  Bridgette yanked him relatively deep inside, then dropped his arm and allowed him to stop, and then continued several footsteps deeper before jerking around, facing him, and stopping.

  "What is this about?" Micah asked again... a little bit annoyed.

  "You should know," she spoke, softly, just above a whisper... a slight hint of anger in her voice.

  "Bridge-"

  "Don't... you Bridgette me." She interrupted. "... I know your secret."

  Micah's eyes darkened even more... until they were the blackest of blacks. "Explain yourself, Bridgette."

  "I know your secret," she repeated. "You can't hide it anymore... I know who you are _and_ what you did to Micah!"

  Micah extended out his arms in a very _"we're all friends here"_ gesture. "And why is that a bad thing, Bridgette?"

  Bridgette narrowed her eyes. "You know damn well... Father."

  He Who Walks Behind the Rows, through Micah, allowed Micah's arms to return to Micah's side... His, for now. "You're a smart girl, Bridgette."

  "Yeah," Bridgette said bitterly. "Why else would you have chosen me?"

  "I chose you... because you were not typical. You were, and still are, completely different... from anyone chosen before or after you... a girl, a Goth, a rebel... you weren't even _completely_ brain washed on religion in your younger years. You were perfect...

  "You were perfect... except one thing... you loved that stupid whore more then you loved me... more then you loved yourself."

  "Shut up!" Bridgette shrieked. "Just shut up! Don't you ever say anything like that about Rebecca! You didn't even know her!"  
  "_She_ is the reason you died," He Who said through Micah's mouth. "Not me... you died for her."

  "So what if I did? You didn't do anything to stop it!"

  "You were right about that, too, Bridgette," He Who smiled with Micah's lips. "I didn't... I let both of you die... you deserved it... you both deserved it. _You_ chose that slut over me! _He_ ignored my word! You were both weak! Both mistakes... horrible mistakes."

  "Well it doesn't matter!" Bridgette declared. "You let him go, now..."

  "How about, no."

  "You let him go," Bridgette repeated, taking a small knife out from where she had hidden it in her sleeve. She didn't let He Who through Micah's eyes see it. "Or I'll force you to."

  With that, she flew at him... shoved him hard again the wall... pinned him there, and pressed the knife to his throat.

  He Who Walks Behind the Rows laughed. "What's that for, Bridgette?"

  "I've studied, Father!" Bridgette barked in his face, pressing the knife right up against the skin, holding He Who in Micah's body down against the wall. "How did you think I figured out about you possessing Micah? I watched his rein! I saw you take him... _and_ I saw you leave him! I saw you leave him before he got pulled under the harvester!" Bridgette needed a gasp of breath before she could go on. "That is your weakness, isn't it? You can die in human form!"

  He Who Walks Behind the Rows scrawled. "You are smart... too smart... or not smart enough."

  Bridgette features twisted more as confusion added to her anger. "What? WHAT?"

  "So you kill me, big deal... you'd also kill your precious fuck buddy." He Who smiled, and almost laughed at the look that then spread on her face.

  To His surprise, she pressed the knife blade down hard. "So? Its better then being your little bitch... I'm sure he'd agree with me."

  Silence, between the two of them, for a long moment.

  "I'll kill him, if I have to, to stop _you_." Bridgette spoke... then silence, again, before she said: "We'd die anyway, with you... you'd just kill us again, I know that. This way, we'd bring you down with us."

  He Who's features twisted in the rage of God, he forced his arms out from under her with incredible strength, knocked her off of him, then grabbed her by the hair and swung her around... knocking her against the wall, he snatched the knife from her hand, and pressed it to the skin over her heart, still holding a hand full of her midnight blacken hair.

  "Maybe I'll just kill you," he breathed, in her face.

  Bridgette pawed at his wrist and tried to pull the knife away from her skin... she fought and fought and began in panic, desperate.

  He Who smiled as tears came to her eyes and she began to sob madly, pushing at Him... pushing at His arm... with no success what-so-ever.

  He could almost hear her begging no.

  _Stupid girl_, He thought... watching her squirm.

  "Micah," she whined. "Micah... I know you're in there, I know you can hear me... I know, sometimes, He's not completely in control... I knew it every time you kissed me... please, Micah! Please, help me!"

  He Who/Micah's face twisted... she saw the light black mix in with the blackest black in the eyes as Micah was fighting back. The pressure of the blade eased on her skin.

  _Noo!_, He Who Walks Behind the Rows thought, _No! Micah! You are mine! You're MINE!_

  Once the pressure had eased enough; Bridgette pressed her hands to His shoulders and pushed with all her might... He Who in Micah's body fell back, hitting the ground hard on His back and giving His head a good knock.

  Bridgette jumped on him, quickly, sat upon his stomach, and stole her knife back. She pressed it to His throat again.

  He Who recovered and looked up into the dead-set face and stone solid green eyes of a _very_ pissed of Bridgette Fritzen. "Let... him... go."

  His facial features twisted in terrible rage and then in a mix of that same rage and ungodly (or, perhaps, _godly_) pain... He Who's voice began the horrible scream... a terrible, terrible scream... slowly, it began a mix... a mix of He Who's and Micah's voice(s)...

  Winds blew around the room, wiping Bridgette's hair wildly around her head. She just held on and kept the knife blade pressed to His neck. Slowly, the winds faded as the scream faded into just Micah's voice... Micah's scream... and then the screaming stopped, and the winds were just a gentle (but still wild) breeze.

  Micah's eyes – truly his this time – looked up at her... they were confused and scared, confused as Hell and scared as Hell... but there was a dim flicker of love in them when he saw Bridgette.

  Bridgette knew it was him... there was no doubt... she threw down the knife and rapped her arms around Micah's neck.

  "We're free," she whispered. "We're free! We're free, we're free, we're free!"

  Micah set one hand on her back... everything slowly coming back to him.

  _We're free_, her voice burned in his mind... repeating even more times, _we're free! We're free now, Micah! We really are free!_

  _We're free?_

  They were both startled when the ground began to rock... began to shake.

  "Oh no!" Bridgette moaned. She jumped to her feet and grabbed Micah's arm. "Get up... get up... get up!"

  Micah did, slowly, and she jerked him towards the door... running like crazy away from the barn. "Move! Move! Run! Quickly! Move, damn it!"

  She yanked him out the door of the barn, out side, the ground was not shaking... or, at least, not too much... she didn't stop there, though. She ran... ran as if the Devil himself were chasing her... through the corn field... she ran, pulling Micah to run with her, through the corn field... all the way through until they reached the road...

  Once on the road, she stopped... and jerked him and herself around to look back... the barn was visibly shaking... it shook and shook... as if an earthquake was taking place below it's foundation... it shook and shook; until it fell down.

  They stood together... and watched the building, the barn, fall... watched it crumbled to the ground until it was only a pile of painted wood and rusted nails and God only knows what else... then there was a great and terribly scream, the scream of He Who Walks Behind the Rows' rage at his forced departure... and then; everything was silent....everything was still.

  And they were free...

--- the end ---


End file.
